


In the Dark

by midnightrose1373



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Independence, Jealousy, Protective Siblings, Run Away, Sibling Rivalry, Terrible Mothers, darklings - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 01:04:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 19,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1063824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightrose1373/pseuds/midnightrose1373
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU<br/>Meet Elodie, the Darkling's little sister. She left her dear brother when she saw his true colors and for years hid behind aliases and cover stories. She denies all relation to Ravka, or anything having to do with her family. One day her past comes knocking, or should I say breaking and entering, and dear Elodie is forced to confront what she left behind. And stand up and fight the one person she never thought she could.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I have this story posted on Fanfiction.net, under midnightrose1373, if you want to read ahead. the original plan was to import it but I found out there was a block set up. This is my first fanfiction and it is not complete, on either site. I will post every chapter that I have already written every other day.

_"Do you miss me," a voice asks. I turn to see my brother appear on the bench beside me, his gray eyes boring into me. The smell of roses surrounds me and the cold rough stone bench scrapes my fingers._

_"I don't know, maybe," I mutter after a while. I turn away and look up at the perfect azure blue sky. Suddenly the sky starts losing color. Stunned I turn to look at my brother. His inky black kefta is stirred by a gust of wind and I'm transfixed by a rose bush behind him losing color. I stand up and spin around as I watch the entire garden lose color and life._

_"Sister mine, why did you leave?" He calmly asks, crossing his legs. The smell of sweet roses turns to the thick coppery scent of blood._

_"You know very well why," I accuse, stumbling back away from him. The sky is black, but I can still see everything. I can still that they are all different shades of grey._

_"Refresh my memory," he states, leaning back. I hear wing beats in the distance._

_"Stop this!" I scream, terror flooding through me. The wing beats are so close now. I turn away from him as the volcra descend on us. I back away from there leathery bodies. I trip and fall against the Darkling. He pulls me closer and doesn't let me go. Holding me still as I scream and thrash._

_"Soon, sister mine,"_

I wake up screaming. I'm sitting up and I slap my hands over my mouth to muffle my cries. I hold them there until I hear is my ragged breathing and the storm outside. I'm drenched in cold sweat and Goosebumps cover my arms. I swing my legs over the edge of bed and shakily stand. I hear a noise outside the window, a sound I just heard in my dream. I stumble over and whip open the thin white curtains.

Angry rain pelts the glass and a sudden flash of lightning illuminates the street below. For a split second I see someone below. Thunder rattles the pane. The next flash no one is there.

_Just a spring storm, nothing more nothing less._

I draw the curtains and turn away. I feel the hot wetness of my tears as the fall down my cheeks, and squeeze my eyes shut. I grip my flimsy white night dress and fight a sob threatening to escape.

_Do I miss him?_  I ask myself. Just then a bolt of lightning illuminates the room and the crack rattles the house and the same moment. Breathing in I can smell a whiff of smoke.

Lightning just struck the house.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning I don a pale blue dress and my shiny blue slippers and head down to the kitchen. Several of the other renters mill around as they have pleasant morning conversation. I sit in the barstool by the counter and dimly watch Karen, a Healer, as she fries up eggs.

The boarding house I stayed in was set up exclusively for Grisha as they came into this country. After the Shadow fold incident we recently got a bunch from Ravka. Half of them couldn't even speak the language of this country so the kitchen was filled the language of my homeland.

Karen smiles warmly at me, and I give a weak one in return. Her long brown hair is tied back, showing the elegant planes of her face. She flips and egg and sizzles, filling the room with its homely scent. I cross my legs and watch as she bustles around. It's hard to believe she's only 25, she looks a decade older.

"Did you sleep well Elodie?" Karen questions. I look at her for a second and shake my head. You can't get anything past Karen and her Fjerdan sensibilities. She frowns and reaches for me. I flinch back and she retracts her hand. She sighs and doesn't say anything though.

"Lightning struck the house you know. Thank goodness we got that lightning rod!" she brightly chimes, cracking another egg.

"Yeah, it woke me up," I mumble, flicking my fiery hair out of my eyes. She gives me a look and I avert my blue eyes away from her warm brown ones.

She clucks and slides a plate with two eggs on it in front of me. I look up at her, annoyed by this ritual she has. She points at the plate and mimes eating motions. I shake my head and without another word walk out of the kitchen.

In the foyer I sling my leather satchel over my shoulder, slide on my ID bracelet, and head out the front door. Outside I take a deep breath, taking in the fresh rain scent before I head down to the park. I carefully dodge people and their belongings as they rush to and fro. I smile at the hustle and bustle of the city, it makes you feel part of something.

At the park I settle on the driest bench I could find and watch as the children play. A young couple walks by, lost in each other's eyes. Suddenly a little girl with blonde curls and a pink dress runs up to the man and tugs on his pant leg. The man detaches himself from his lover and smiles indulgently at the girl. He swings her up into the air making her squeal with delight.

My heart gives a tug and I abruptly feel like an interloper.

"Remember when I did that to you," and all the familiar voice says beside me. Startled I turn to see the Darkling on the bench next to me. His black kefta and hair stands out starkly against the green grass and blue sky. He smirks at my expression and turns back to the group. I swallow and squeeze my eyes shut.

When I open them he's gone. I breathe a sigh of relief and ignore the fact I just hallucinated.

I lazily grab a book from my bag and lose myself in the fantasy world. Where knights save damsels, and no one seems to have any other issues besides the giant fire-breathing dragon.


	3. Chapter 3

_A waltz plays as couples dance around me. The ladies wear every color imaginable and the men wear fine silk tunics that matched their partners. No one wears black though._

_"May I have this dance, Elodie," a voice whispers. Without turning around I know it's my brother. I turn to face him in his fine black silk_ kefta _, noticing I'm wearing a grey ballgown. I curtsy and hold out my hand in response._

_With a flourishing bow he takes my hand and leads me into the dance._

_"Do you miss me?" I ask before he can even open his mouth._

_"Very much," he whispers after a few seconds._

_"Why did you do it?" I blurt without thinking. He smiles and spins me out, causing the silk skirt to balloon around my legs._

_"Why did I do what?" he asks with an innocent smile. I scowl at him._

_"_ Witch!"  _a voice calls, causing me to stumble. The Darkling looks up and grimaces._

_"That isn't me, it's you," he states and tightens his grip. But I wrench my hands away so I can cover my ears as I listen to on insult after another. Each feels like a dagger to my heart_

"Demon!"

"Monster!"

"Devil!"

"Worhtless!"

"Witch!"

"Witch!"

_Witch…_

_"Elodie!" my brother cries, grabbing my hands and pulling me closer, "It's only a dream! They can't hurt you!"_

_Just a dream…Nothing more…Nothing less…_

I wake up with a gasp, and it takes me a second to remember I'm at the park. I tilt my head up and stare at the white fluffy clouds that dot the sky in random places.

_What did I used to do with him? Oh, that's right. We used to make pictures._

I stare at them for a while, making random guesses at

what they are. Then with a shake of my head I stand up. Stuffing my book in my bag as I walk, I head back to the house.

* * *

I'm tapping my fingers against my knee as I read my book in the kitchen when the front doorbell rings. I groan and mark my place. It's the middle of the afternoon so other than me everyone here can only speak Ravkan. I trudge to the front door, which we painted sunflower yellow last month, and open it.

Outside stands a boy with sparkling green eyes. He's probably only around 17, yet he's smiling down at me like I'm a child.

"Good afternoon, is this the Small Boarding House?" he asks without skipping a beat. I nod and open the door wider. He steps in with a suitcase and runs a hand through his black hair. I close the door behind him and we stare awkwardly at each other.

"How old are you. 15?" he probes.

"Physiologically, yes," I answer, studying my bare feet.

"Chronologically?" he presses.

"Wait, how old are you?" I counter.

"Physiologically, 17. Chronologically, well that's a secret," he replies, revealing his dazzling smile.

"Do you have a name?" I wonder.

"Anthony, you?" he retorts just as Karen walk in. Without answering him I stomp up the stairs and slip into my room. I flop onto my bed and listen to the following conversation.

_Who was that?_

_Oh! That's Elodie, she's a doll once she gets used to you!_

I snort.

_What's her ability?_

_No one around here knows…_

After that I can't hear them. I sigh, I never told anyone in the house, or even the country, what my power was. I have the power as my mother and my brother. Those are the only people I know who are like me, so saying my power would allow people to figure out we're related. Which is unbelievably awkward.I close my eyes and take a long breath. Then I pull myself up.

Only to fall back down.

Because standing above me is my brother, his grey eyes locked onto my blue ones. I close my eyes and count to ten. To my dismay he's still there when I open them.

_I've lost it_.

"Oh no Elodie, you can't get rid of me that easily," he croons strutting over to my dresser. He picks up my ceramic fox in his hands, one of the many knick knacks I keep on my dresser.

"You look tired. Have your dreams not been sweet," he observes with cool disinterest. In the mirror I see our reflections. We look so different, he's all black hair and cool grey eyes, and I sport ginger hair and warm blue eyes. Unless you looked closely you wouldn't guess we were related. Though we only share a mother.

"Fine," I breezily reply, hoping it throws him off his game. He's opening his mouth when Karen walks in, stopping right in front of me.

"Elodie, we need to talk," she states. I stare at her. Doesn't she see the Darkling?

"Uh, you don't have ANY other questions," I press.

_Like the fact the Darkling is inches away from you…_

"No," she replies confused. I feel the blood drain from my face.

"D-don't you see him?" I beg, my voice cracking.

"Who? Are you okay? You look very pale?" she inquires confused and presses a hand to my forehead.

"N-no, I think I'll lie down," I murmur. She nods and heads to the door, her heels click on the wood floor.

"We still need to talk," she says as she closes my door.

I fall onto my bed and throw a pillow over my head.

_She couldn't see him._

"Elodie, look at me," my brother demands. I ignore him.

"Elodie," he growls. I pretend he isn't there, maybe if I do it long enough he'll disappear.

"Now Elodie," he intimidates. After a few seconds he rips the pillow away. In response I cover my eyes with my hands.

"Elodie!" he shouts.

"You're just an illusion. Nothing more, nothing less," I whisper.

He growls and grabs my arm.

_Nothing more, nothing less._

I wrench my arm away and stand up. Facing the wall I hear him pace back and forth. Suddenly I hear several succesive crashes.

_Just ignore it Elodie._

Then I hear another and I whirl around. He's thrown several statuettes to the ground, causing debris to cover the floor. He even shattered my mirror, sending the silvery pieces to the wooden floor boards. I gasp and he sets the fox onto the dresser and raises his brow.

I scowl and make a break for the door, ignoring him as he tries to stop me. I make it to the bathroom and I turn to face him. He smirks and I watch him fade into thin air.

I slam the door shut and slide down to the ground, clutching my hair.

_I'm losing it…_

* * *

I walk back into my room after I've calmed down and rationalized the entire occurrence as low blood sugar. But when I walk in my reasoning crumbles. Because everything is still shattered on the floor, except the fox which lies on the dresser.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as you can see the first little tid bit is in 3rd person, the rest is of course in Elodie's POV. I'm sure if anyone is really going to read this so it's noted in the text. Enjoy!

3rd Person Narration

A knock on the door jars the Darkling out of his trance. He rubs his jaw while Ivan enters the room.

"How did it go,  _moi soverenyi,"_ Ivan asks, keeping a wide berth between them and averting his eyes. Not even he was told what the Darkling was doing, just not to disturb him until it was time.

"She's almost exactly the same as I remember, but…more closed," the Darkling muses aloud, lost in thought.

"May I ask who she is,  _moi soverenyi,"_ Ivan timidly inquires. The Darkling shakes his head, realizing what he just said. The chair creaks under him and the clothes he's wearing feel foreign after so many years of only wearing  _keftas_.

"Someone close. Now I need you to get something from the market after this. I'll give you a list," the

Darkling orders with a wave of his hand, dismissing further questions while fingering a golden hair pin. Ivan nods silently.

" _Moi soverenyi,_  the tracker and Alina will be here soon," Ivan offers to fill the silence that chokes the room.

The Darkling simply nods and signals for the other Grisha to get ready.

Mere seconds pass before the tracker opens the door.

* * *

Elodie POV

That evening I'm walking in the market and studying the various stalls wares. I need a distraction. I feverishly swept up the glass, ceramic, and crystal remains of my statues but the mirror shards still cover the floor. I couldn't bring myself to clean that up. A small voice in my head told me not to.

I've learned one thing through experience: that voice is  _always_  right.

I pick up a statue of Rusalye, an ice dragon. My brother would always tell me stories about it, saying it was a cursed prince who guarded the bone road in the frigid northern sea. The statue itself was beautiful. With ice white scales and emerald eyes, and someone had even taken the time to shape every single scale.

The stall's vendor smacked on  _jurda_  and asked if I was going to stand there all day. I scrunch up nose when she spits her orange saliva to the ground. I shake my head, deciding that three gold pieces was too much.  _Jurda_ disgusts me, but here in Crofton it's considered normal and even fashionable.

Out of the blue I'm pushed by an extremely tall man. I look up at him and I can tell he's a Grisha by his walk.

"I need these statues if you have them," he barks in broken Zemeni, his Ravkan accent thick and heavy. Instead of arguing with him I slip in between stalls before he notices me. I hear another person walk up to him.

"Subtle much," a pretty female voice sneer in Ravkan.

"We need to hurry Genya. The Darkling wants these items before we leave and I'm not getting on his bad side," the man gruffly replies, also in Ravkan. My heart freezes at the mention of my brother. He works for my brother, so that means he's here.

_Oh Saints…_

"Why does he want these trinkets Ivan? They look like what I collected when I was a little girl," the girl, Genya, asks.

"I don't know, but he probably has a reason for it," Ivan barks. I hear money being slammed on the table and their retreating footsteps. I wait a few seconds then I step out of my hiding place.

Turning to the stall make a chilling realization. Every statue that I had I a version of is gone.

Even Rusalye.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you don't notice this chapter is a memory of Elodie's from when she was a child. Anyway please review and enjoy!

I'm three old years old and the Darkling is carrying me up to bed. I'm falling asleep as he carries me up the shiny new steps of recently finished Little Palace. Entering my room he sets the candle down on the end table while throwing the simple white duvet back. He gently lays me down and tucks me in.

"Read me a story," I demand as he's closing the door. He briefly closes his eyes, but relents walking back over the bed. He was in a meeting when I snuck out of my room, terrified after my latest nightmare.

It had been my mother's turn to put me to bed, though all she did was stuff me in a nightgown and blpw out the candle. Just like she always does, so has always, I end up sneaking into my brother's chambers.

He now sits on the bed with me; his  _kefta_  reminds me of spilled ink. He runs his fingers through my hair and in his soft voice tells me a story about a duck who laid golden eggs.

* * *

I wake up after my brother left to the noises outside my door. I creep closer to the door and press my ear against the wood.

"Is it so hard to take care of her," I hear my brother hiss.

"She's not supposed to be alive, boy. She was a mistake," I hear my mother retort, anger leaking into her voice.

"She's your daughter. You were the one who did the deed with him," my brother snarls.

"Yes, that's why you insist on keeping her ridiculous foreign name. So you can remind me of my mistakes. Elodie, bah! What a foolish name," Mother sneers.

"Your mistake Baghra, not mine. I shouldn't be the one fixing it, but if you continue this I'll raise her by myself," Brother states his voice rising.

"Do that then, see how well you do," Mother responds laughing.

"Then leave. You don't get to see her, hold her, or even look at her," he coldly retorts.

"What?" Mother replies, her shock echoing mine.

"Leave, there's an old house back by the lake. Or you can move into town. Either way you aren't coming back in here," he explains.

"Good," she says, relief filling her voice and stabbing a dagger in my fragile heart. I hear them walk in separate directions. I sit by the door till I fall asleep.

* * *

"Happy Birthday Elodie," my brother calls with a wide smile while swinging me up into the air. I giggle and beam at him.

"Seven years old already. That's pretty old," he jokes as he sets me down.

"I'm a big girl now," I declare standing on my tiptoes. He laughs and ruffles my ginger hair. I slap his hand away and glare at him, smoothing my hair like the Grisha and other adults do. My hair reaches my knees but Brother never lets me cut it, even though my nurse takes a good while to comb it.

He smirks leads me down the stairs. I keep smoothing my brand new dress. It's silver with gold detailing, and has snowflakes embroidered on the hems. Outside a blizzard howls, but inside it's warm and safe. We enter the hall and I see smiling faces of all the Grisha.

Brother only allows me to eat in the hall on special occasions so I usually eat in a private dining room with him, though he often has meetings in his private chambers. We sit on the dais to the left of Brother in a large chair that's so high my feet dangle.

Servants bring out breakfast. It consists of pancakes and waffles with golden butter and several types of syrup. Fruit is in silver dishes and coated in sugar and everything else is on the fancy china we rarely use. I bounce up and down with excitement as a tall servant place a plate in front of me. I reach for my fork so I can devour it, but Brother shakes his head at me. Obediently I fold my hands in my lap and wait patiently for him to allow me to eat the feast in front of me.

I watch longingly as the other Grisha, in their bright  _kefta_  dig in to the meal.

"67 time 32," Brother says while unfolding a napkin in his lap.

"2144," I answer with a frown. He said I didn't have any lessons today so why was he making me do math exercises still?

"That divided by 4," he challenges.

"536," I reply.

"Add 73," he continues, cutting into a pancake.

"609," I mutter. He shoots me look and I repeat loader.

"Subtract 207," he quizzes.

"402," I say, looking down at my hands.

"For the win, divide that by 6," he finishes holding out my fork to me.

"67!" I cheer. He smiles fondly and gives me the fork. I stab the pancake and relish the taste as it collides with my tongue. I inhale the rest of the food and wait for him to finish. When he finishes an  _oprichiniki_ whispers in his ear. Brother's carefree smile slips and hardens. He hisses something at the gray clad man and dismissing him with a wave of his hand.

He stands and I copy him, following him as he walks out of the hall. He doesn't notice me until we are at the giant door which leads to the path connecting the palaces. He turns, looking down at me.

"Elodie, I'm very sorry but you can't come with me," he says, kneeling so we are at eye level. I scrunch up my nose, anger rushing through me.

"You promised," I whine, stomping my foot. He runs a hand through my hair and sighs.

"I know, but I don't want you to going to court," he explains slowly. I feel tears running down my cheeks.

"It's my birthday…" I trail off, realizing I'm fighting a losing battle. He wipes a tear away and frowns again.

"I'll make it up to you. We can go somewhere special for holiday, I promise," he says thoughtfully and eagerly. I dejectedly nod my head.

_You say that every time…_  I think, but I don't say it out loud. He kisses my forehead and throws up his hood as he walks out into the silver storm. I just stand there, my legs feeling like concrete.

I spend the rest of the day listening to terrible jokes as the Grisha try to cheer me up. Most of them don't even know my name, and I know they only do this so I'll talk to my brother about them. One gives me little statues. A stag, a dragon, and a sea whip. Each one is pretty, but they feel empty so I just place them on my dresser. Lunch passes, and I end up not eating anything because the servants are called away to the Grand Palace, so the only cook is the one who always burns my food.

I sneak into the kitchen, surprised that no one is in here. I shrug and head back upstairs.

At dinner time I'm waiting for Brother by the door, pacing back and forth. Other Grisha have already been served. I can't go into the hall unless he's there anyway.

_He wouldn't miss dinner. That's when he gives me my presents and then cake is served. He never misses birthday dinners._

However I hear a cheers from the hall, and I know that my birthday cake is being served without me. I suck in a breath, walking purposefully toward the door to the dining hall. But an  _oprichiniki_ scolds me for trying to enter. Reminding me that I'm not allowed inside. I dumbly nod and go back to waiting.

An hour later I see Grisha exit, half of them are drunk and a few have icing smears on their  _kefta_. I clench my fists, all the emotions I held back rushing through me. Darkness leaks from my clenched fist and all the Grisha scatter.

I wait another hour, sitting against the wall studying the carvings. All the servants have cleaned up the mess from the party. I run upstairs and throw on my cloak and scarf. Then I rush down the stairs before my nurse can question me.

I start tugging on the heavy door that Brother had gone through just that morning. After a few minutes though I manage to open it enough to get out and I don't bother closing it. Snow swirls around me and the howling wind stings my face.

I trudge on though, determined to get to the Grand Palace. My cloak is thick, but the wind cuts right through. After a just a couple minutes I'm frozen to the bone. I can't see where I'm going but I keep walking.

I miraculously reach the Grand Palace and I knock on the door. An old man opens the door; he's hunched over so he can see me without looking down. I glare at him until he wordlessly steps out of the way. I step inside the palace, stunned at the lavishness of it. I can't find beauty in it though because I can feel an undercurrent of lies and deception. I run down the red carpeted walkway toward what I think is the throne room.

I'm mildly please when I discover I'm right. I throw open the doors before the guards even know what's happening.

The entire throne room is polished, but everyone stares at me. Jaws dropped and eyes wide as they piece the entire situation together. In one of the mirrors I see my reflection.

I'm coated in snow and my eyes are red from tears. My hair is soaked along with my clothes. My brother recovers first, standing up from his throne to the right of the King. I can he's mad at me, but I don't care because I'm mad at him.

"Elodie, what are you doing," he demands. I just glare at him.

"So this is your sister, she's a pretty young thing," a boy who looks 17 observes. His eyes are brown and his hair is blonde. Something about him makes me want to curl up, but I keep my back straight.

Brother snarls at the boy and without another word starts walking toward me. Anger flashes in his grey eyes and I take a step back.

"Elodie," he strains. I crane my neck back to get a better view of him.

"You left me alone," I state. Struggling not to show emotion.

"Elodie I-"he starts.

"I didn't even get cake, and I had to listen to terrible jokes from the Grisha," I interrupt, my voice cracking.

"Elodie…" he tries again

"You promised!" I shout, tears running down my face. His eyes soften and he kneels in front of me.

"Elodie, I'm sorry. But I can't tell the  _tsar_  no," he says while wiping a tear from my cheek. I keep crying though. Everything that I held in all day rushing out. Brother silently pulls me to him and I latch on to him, refusing to let go.

"Gentlemen, I'll see you in two days," he announces while he picks me up.

He carries me out of the Grand Palace and into the Little Palace, shielding me from the wind as we walk through the blizzard.

Brother carries me into my room and sets me on the bed. He calls an  _oprichiniki_ to bring up my presents. I sit on the floor and watch as he lays out a night gown the bed. He instructs me to change and I obey, happy to be in something dry.

The  _oprichiniki_ delivers the packages, all wrapped in shiny paper and tied with bows.

I sit next on Brother's lap on the floor as one by one we open each present. He gives me a new storybook from across the sea, a necklace with a moon and star on it, a bottle of what he tells me is "perfume," and many other things. Through it all he talks to me and never once rolls his eyes.

The final box is small with midnight blue paper and tied with a gold ribbon. I untie the ribbon and lift up the lid.

Inside lays a ceramic fox. It's only about two inches high and it's painted a vibrant red-orange. I look at my brother curious as to why he gave it to me.

"It's because you remind me of a fox sometimes. You're clever and quick, you even have the same hair color," he explains, sensing the question in my eyes. I stand up and place it next to the others on my dresser. He smiles at my collection as he tucks me into bed.

I fall asleep dreaming of foxes lost in the snow.


	6. Chapter 6

Books cover every available surface in my room, they even cover the floor. However since the mirror shards haven't been cleaned up I've created a little barrier out of books around them. Blank books sit in a stack next to me as I sit on the floor. I flick my long ginger hair out of my eyes. I need to get haircut, it nearly reaches mid-thigh. I normally tied it back, but this morning I never did because of the nightmare.

In front of me is a large volume titled "The Encyclopedia of Human Consciousness" and I'm feverishly taking notes in blank book number 12. I'm already on the last page and with a flick of my wrist I finish one final note. I close the book and grab another blank one.

I will review them after I'm finished with notes and I move on to putting everything together. Downstairs the clock chimes a quarter to 3 in the morning. I'm not tired; I'm driven by the need to figure out the visions. I had rushed to library after I saw the Grisha pair and checked out every book concerning phycology, Grisha Theory, and even magic.

I open the fresh book and try to find my place in the dense text.

"It's late Elodie, you need to sleep," my brother's voice mutters. I look up and see him sprawled out on my bed. I sigh and look back down at my notes.

_Vision appeared at around 2:45 AM. Stress?_  I write down thought fully.

"Can't," I murmered looking back at the book. My mind flips over. The book is in Shu and I've been writing my notes in Zemeni. Now I'm talking in Ravkan, my head aches as it swims through. I can speak all three fluently along with Kerch, Fjerdan, and French. France was where my birth father came from.

I never told my brother I learned French, knowing he would not be happy about it. He may let me keep a French name but he didn't want me to learn about it. I once asked him to teach me but he told me no and ordered that I never ask again. I cock my head and erase my last note, and rewrite it in French.

"Try," he states and I hear him stand up.

"I did. Besides I'm not a child anymore," I clarify. I look up from my notes and watch as he picks up a book I had placed the bed.

"Don't move that," I say.  _Vision appears to be able to pick up objects,_ I write and as I'm speaking.

"Why?" he asks.

_Vision asks questions._

"You'll ruin my organization," I say slowly, like I'm speaking to a small child because I know it will bother him.

"What organization," he snorts.

_Vision is condescending._

I hear the book fall to the floor, but I just sigh and turn back to the book in front of me.

"Elodie, go to bed," he commands, like I'm an errant child again.

_Vision is demanding_ , I press so hard that the ink blots.

"Elodie, go to bed," he repeats, with more steel in voice. I ignore him, and I hear him step closer.

"Elodie, now" he sternly strains, taking another step.

_Vision can't take a hint,_

_"_ I'm not asking you," he warns, he's now standing right in front of me.

_Vision insists on treating me like a child/doll_

The Darkling rips the book out of my hand. I look up and glare at him, and his gray eyes glare right back. I huff and looking directly at him I snatch a fresh book and open it up.

_Vision is rude,_  I add, this time in Ravkan.

"Secousse," I mutter looking up. It's French for jerk. My brother furrows his brow, confused by the language I used. He taught me everything except French.

"What was that?" he asks his voice icy and unforgiving.

"Secousse," I repeat louder. His eyes light up with comprehension and harden a split second later. He leans down so he's only a few inches away from my face.

"Where did you hear that?" he orders rather than asks.

"Around," I breeze, but I glance worriedly at the book he holds in his hand. He catches that and opens it up. He scowls as he reads it and throws the book to the ground.

"Around?" he drawls, but I can hear the edge. I nod shakily, the thought that he might actually be real coming into my mind. I shake it off.

He's just an illusion, nothing less, nothing more. He can't hurt me.

I stand up, courage running through me. I'm in a cotton nightgown that only reaches my knees and it makes me look younger.

"Around," I repeat sternly. He grabs my wrist and I start to struggle.

"You better come up with a good story for this," he hisses. I stick out my tongue in response. He scowls and grabs my chin.

"Don't stick your tongue out at me," he demands, his eyes blazing.

"You can't order me around! I'm not your little doll, and you aren't even real!" I declare, my voice rising. "You're an illusion! Nothing less and nothing more."

He freezes and I use the chance to wrench my wrist free. I'm sprinting out the door before he even blinks. I run as quietly as I can. I catch a glimpse of him as he chases as I turn the corner.

I fly down the stairs, jumping the last few. I throw open the door to the kitchen and freeze.

Anthony is facing away from me, humming a happy tune while he stirs what looks like batter in a blue bowl. He spins around and freezes too.

"Elodie, what are you still doing up?" he asks after he recovers.

"That's what I would like to know," my brother says behind me. I already know Anthony can't see him but its still nerve racking. I walk deeper into the kitchen and breathe deeply. It smells like vanilla and sugar. Only two lamps are lit, and one is by the stove and the other is on the counter, but it's enough to light his small workplace.

"I can't sleep," I explain as I jump onto a barstool. Anthony nods and goes back to what I guess is baking.

"I can understand that," he says solemnly and then smiles at me. "But! The witching hour is wonderful for late night snacking and baking!" he adds flinging the spoon up dramatically, causing batter to splatter across the counter. I giggle and swipe up some with my finger.

I slowly lick it off, shocked at how delicious it is. He laughs at my expression and wipes up the mess with a towel.

"Does the sour lady enjoy the sweet fruits of my labor," he theatrically asks, giving me a mock serious face. I nod and he resumes baking. I stay and watch him, not speaking but laughing at all his jokes.

The entire time the Darkling stands off in the corner, shaking his head at me. I struggle to ignore him. Anthony places the cake in the oven to bake and he leans over the counter and looks deeply into my eyes.

"It appears you haven't even tried to sleep yet," he says after a long moment.

"I haven't," I return quietly.

"After this cake I'll take up to bed," he states and turns around to put the dishes in the sink.

"You will not eat that cake Elodie. It's far too late," my brother commands while studying his nails.

I glare at him and nod my head to Anthony. Anthony beams and we patiently wait for the cake to finish baking.

"So where you from?" he asks after a minute.

"I'm from Ravka, where are you from?" I calmly return.

"I was born in the Southern Colonies, but I was raised in France," he answers. My eyes widen but I don't comment on it.

"Do you miss it?" I ask after moment.

"Yeah, sometimes. My mother's still there, she refused to leave," he explains. I simply nod, and look at my brother, who is seething in the corner.

"Do you miss Ravka? Surely you have some family there," he asks.

"I don't know. My father was never there, all I know is that he's from France. My mother never gave a damn, and my brother…well…that's to personal," I sigh after a couple seconds. After I say it though I mentally slap myself.

Luckily the cake is done and he pulls it out while wearing thick mittens.

He cuts two slices once it's cooled and gives me one along with a fork. I take a bite and moan at it's delicious taste.

"You sir, are a god of cooking," I proclaim.

"Am I, Lady Dour," he drawls.

"Yes, yes you are," I affirm.

"I expect an altar and an offering every day at sunrise," he declares, spinning his fork around.

"Don't push your luck boy," I mutter as I pop a piece of cake in my mouth.

After we've finished I feel like someone tie weights to my eyelids. I yawn and stand up.

"Thank you for the cake, but I must go to sleep," I sleepily murmur. I walk out to the hall and rub my eyes. My brother follows me as I trudge upstairs to my bed. I'm crawling onto the bed when I hear the door close. I turn and see the Darkling glaring at me while he leans against the door.

I roll my eyes and slip under the covers. Not wanting to deal with him till morning. I snuggle up to the pillow as I hear my brother walk over to the bed.

"Sweet dreams my little fox, because in the morning everything changes," he croons while he pets my hair. I fall asleep with his words swirling in my head.


	7. Chapter 7

I wake from my dreamless sleep to the sound of arguing from the street below.

"She's on this street I swear!" a young man's voice warily declares. I momentarily freeze, but I shake it off and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. I'm disoriented at the amount of books I have scattered around the room. In a stack lies twelve books neatly stacked and I remember what I was doing last night.

I groan and stand up, rubbing my eyes as I walk over to a blank book that lies on ground. I open it up and glance at all the notes I took in Frenche. It only took up a page and as the writing goes on it gets thicker and sharper. I turn the page and blanch.

In my brother neat, crisp handwriting is a note.

_Sister mine,_

_If you are reading this I do hope you have a good explanation. I remember telling you not to learn this language, but it appears you didn't listen. But I'll give you fair warning. I've met a very gifted tracker, and he, like you, is in very hot water with me._

_Take that how you like._

The entire thing is written in French, and I can feel his irritation. I drop the book to the ground. If I run he'll know I've read the note, and it will be awful when he catches me but I have a chance of escaping. If I stay I'll get caught, but I could feign ignorance about the note. He'll know I'm lying but if play it well I avoid the repercussions.

"I suggest you figure it out quickly Tracker. Your dear Alina is in trouble," I hear my brother's voice waft up from the street.

_Too late_.

I look around the room, searching for a place to hide. But all there is my bed, and they'll definitely check under there. I clutch my chest, trying to control my heart beat.

_Oh Saints, he probably has Heartrenders._

My hands shake and I search desperately for a way out. If that Tracker is any good I'm doomed. My breath comes out shakily and I feel my chest tighten. I open the door, mindful that it's early. I tiptoe down the hall and I slip into the linen closet. With a shaky breath I climb up the shelves, mindful not to disturb any of sheets.

I stop on the top shelf, we don't keep anything up here because it's so high up no one can reach it. It's higher than the door and you have to twist your neck to see if anything is even over the edge. I press myself against the wall, knowing that they would have to climb up here to even see me. For good measure I summon a bubble of darkness around me.

Not a minute later I hear the front doors burst open.

"She's somewhere in this house," says the man I'm assuming is the Tracker.

"You better be right," my brother snaps. "Ivan search the downstairs, if you see anyone from Ravka bring them to the foyer. Tracker, you're with me."

I feel guilt blossom in my chest, I led the Darkling right to the people who were running from him. I curl my knees to my chest, trying to keep my breathing even. I listen with rapt attention as the Darkling and the Tracker climb the stairs. I freeze as they walk right by my hiding place and they enter what I think is my bedroom.

"She isn't here," the Darkling hisses.

"She moved, but she's still in the house," the Tracker appeases, his fear echoing mine.

"Find her," the Darkling commands and I hear him kick a stack of books over.

They walk out into the hall and the Tracker must be obeying because I hear stop in front of the door to linen closet. I don't move a muscle, not even daring to breathe, as he slowly opens the door.

"She's in here," the Tracker whispers, as if I'm an animal and I'll jump at the sound of his voice.

"Search the closet," my brother demands. The Tracker obeys and starts throwing pillowcases out into the hallway. I can only see his blonde hair as he feverishly searches the shelves. I can't help but smirk at his actions.

"Hurry Tracker, Alina is waiting," my brother drawls.

_Take all the time you need…_

"I don't understand, it's like she disappeared into thin air…" the Tracker trails off. Then his neck snaps up and I can see his eyes. My veil of darkness dissipates as I lose my focus.

"She's up there," the Tracker declares. I fight the urge to spit on him.

"What are you doing!?" I hear Anthony exclaim, but I hear a grunt and I know he's been knocked out. I peek over the edge just as the Darkling walks in and cranes his head up.

"Come down here Elodie, before I make you," he croons, but the steel in voice is still obvious. I shake my head and retreat against the wall. I hear him sigh and I can tell he's rolling his eyes.

"This isn't a request," he growls and I hear him slam his hand down on a shelf. I peek over the edge and spit at him. He snarls and I hear him climb up the first shelf. I narrow my eyes at him and stick my tongue out.

I know deep down that this is a losing battle, but I'm not going down without a fight. The Darkling goes up another level of shelves. This is my last chance to climb down, because if gets any higher he'll just drag me down.

"Last chance," he glowers echoing my thoughts. I simply give him an obscene gesture. Whatever calmness snaps and faster than a bolt of lightning he snatches my forearm and pulls me closer to the edge. I struggle and hold on to the shelf with everything I have. I'm halfway off the shelf my hair is in my eyes and I'm upside down when I start attacking him.

I hit his arms and I thrash so his hand has to bend backwards to keep his grip. I don't scream for help, the only person who possibly can is the Tracker, and he isn't even moving. The door slammed shut somewhere along the line, plunging us in darkness.

With one final yank I fall off the shelf. His grip on my arm prevents me from falling, but I'm still dangling. I peddle my legs, trying to squirm free.

"Elodie where are you?!" I hear Karen's panicked cry from where my bedroom is. I freeze for a second and so does my brother. He recovers first and drops me on ground and I land in a heap. He jumps down and pulls me up. He kicks open the door and drags me behind him while I dig my heels into the floor.

Karen runs out of my room panic written all over her face. She sees me and she stops. I can tell she wants to run over and help me, but the Darkling is enough for her to not say a word as he drags me into my room.

"Now, Elodie let's address your recent behavior," he calmly states while throwing me forward and slamming the door. He looks different than he did when I was little. He's thinner and paler with four faint scars that run over his cheek.

"I simply don't appreciate you mentally stalking me," I hiss. He gives me a sardonic smile while he grabs a suitcase I kept under my bed.

"Don't be dramatic," he drawls while he opens the case on the bed.

"Don't be dramatic? Why? I'm just copying you," I mock.

"Still have that cutting tongue I see," he clucks as he opens my dresser. I watch as he throws some clothes and other essentials in. I scowl and rip a dress from his pale hands.

"What are you doing?" I snarl at him.

"Packing. You're going home," he states, as he's speaking about the weather. I blanch and drop the dress. I shake myself and straighten my spine.

"No," I say, firm and resolute. I'm not a child, I'm not his anymore.

"You don't exactly have a choice," he chuckles mockingly.

"That's where you are wrong Brother," I affirm. He doesn't say anything. With all my might I throw a book at him. He dodges it and continues packing. I snarl and as he walks by I kick him. He just grimaces and picks up the fox statue and then slips it in his  _kefta_.

The one he gave me for my seventh birthday.

He snaps the suitcase close and then grabs my arm and drags me out of my room and to the foyer. All the Grisha refugees were lined up, their heads down and a few had bruises.

"Let them go," I breathe, stopping my struggle.

"They deserted, now they must pay the price," he says dispassionately. I look at him in horror. I know the punishment for deserting. Death, usually after torture.

"No, you can't do that," I cry.

_Don't prove me right…_

"It's out of your hands," he mutters while he drags me out to a waiting black coach. I keep fighting, even though I know that he'll win. He picks me up and places me on the plush seat. He climbs in after and shuts the door. He sits across from me and runs a hand through his hair. I realize I'm still in my nightgown, but I don't say anything.

Soon after Ivan and the Tracker enter and sit down. The Tracker sits next to me and Ivan sits next to the Darkling. I scowl at the Tracker. Ivan chains his wrists and I soften a little. He did what any man would do.

The coach begins to move and I refuse to look at any of them.

"Elodie, sit up straight," the Darkling orders. I shoot him a glare and purposefully slouch. His eyes flash but the Tracker distracts him.

"I found her, now where's Alina?" the Tracker scowls. Alina…where did I hear that?

"She's aboard a ship that you will be on," the Darkling says while looking out the window. The Tracker sighs with relief.

"Along with me," the Darkling says after a few seconds. The Tracker's face falls and he slumps in his seat.

"Why are you crying Tracker," Ivan mocks.

"My name is Mal," the Tracker, Mal, hisses.

"At least you have actual clothes on," I sigh as I stare out the window. After that we fall into silence. The rocking of the coach makes me tired, even though I had just woken up. My eyelids begin to droop after three hours and I start leaning on Mal. He looks at me but doesn't react.

"Ivan, switch with Elodie," the Darkling orders. I jerk up and sway again. The Darkling grabs me and pulls me onto his lap. Mal scoots over and Ivan takes his spot. The Darkling doesn't remove me from his lap though; he just leans back against the seat and turns me so my head rests on his chest. He absentmindedly runs his hand over my head.

I struggle to stay awake, refusing to fall asleep. I don't bother moving off his lap either. I'm still soothed by him petting my hair, even after all these years.

"Hush now my dear little fox," my brother croons just as I'm about to go under. The last thing I hear is Mal scoff.


	8. Chapter 8

_"What do you remember?" a voice asks me. It's not my brother, but it still reminds me of someone. I'm floating in darkness and the only sensation is sound._

_"I remember the paintings," I say without thinking. I will always remember the paintings._

_My brother every single year had us pose for a family portrait. When I was nine years old I was looking at them. The one that was painted just after I was born featured my brother and I. My mother stood separated from us, and she looked only about thirty years old. The portrait from the next year my mother appeared to have aged forty years, but my brother still looked around nineteen or twenty. I of course simply aged a year._

_The following portrait I was the only one who had aged, both my mother and brother appeared frozen in time. The fourth portrait my mother was gone, and my brother was still frozen. Everyone after that was the same. No mother, a frozen brother, and I aging regularly._

_At nine years old I was shocked, having never noticed it before. When he came back in the room I asked him about his age. He furrowed his brow and looked at me for a long moment._

_"I was around 21, but I stopped aging at nineteen," he answered honestly. I cocked my head, realizing we never celebrated his birthday._

_"Why?" I asked, curious as to how he never changed but everyone else did._

_"A deal I made," he simply answered and picked up me so I forced to look in his eyes._

_"Never ask why again Elodie," he sternly ordered and set me down and called for my nurse to come and put me to bed, even though it was only just after dinner._

_"What else do you remember?" the same voice asks me._

_"I remember drinking my brother's_ kvas _when he left the room," I answer. I had drunk an entire bottle in seconds and my brother caught me just as I set the bottle on the table. He was angry but he didn't punish me. I had asked why and he simply replied "You already punished yourself."_

_A few minutes I had puked up the entire contents of my stomach and the next morning I felt like death. I never drank alcohol again._

_"What else?" the voice cajoles._

_"Math exercises," I return. Three times every day I had to do mental math exercises. I started them when I was only two and he would not let me leave or do anything I got them all right._

_"Anything else, something about his name" the voice cries, I can feel its frustration._

_"What do you mean?" I ask._

_"His goddamn name!" it shouts._

_"I don't know it," I whisper._

_"What about your last name!" it yells._

_"I don't remember it," I breathe._

* * *

My brother is carrying me up a gangplank when I wake up. I curiously look down and immediately grab my brother's  _kefta_ on instinct. We're twenty feet above the dark water and the plank creaks under our weight and there isn't even a railing. He chuckles lightly and carefully steps onto the deck of the ship. He sets me on feet, and I recognize I'm still in the nightgown. This ship smells like death and I see whaling equipment on board. The sun is just setting and the ship's crew begins to prepare the ship to set sail.

I see them carry an unconscious girl aboard. She's thin and her brown hair seems lifeless. On her neck I see a collar made of stag antlers. I watch as they carry below decks, as does my brother. Mal runs over to the girl, but Ivan stops him.

"NO! Let me see her!" he shouts and Ivan squeezes his fist. I stare in horror as the Tracker falls over clutching his chest.

"Not yet Tracker," Ivan harshly whispers and then two Grisha in Corporalki red drag in down below as well.

My brother absent mindedly runs his fingers through my hair like I'm his pet, frustrated I bat his hand away and take a step away from him. He sighs and motions Ivan to come over. Ivan is stiff as a board and fear rolls from him in waves while he walks over.

"I need you to take her down to my cabin and watch her," the Darkling orders. Ivan looks at me and he grimaces. He looks like my brother told him to clean up puke. I stick my tongue out at him, not caring how utterly childish it is.

"Don't be juvenile," the Darkling sighs.

"He started it," I quip, because he didn't have to give that look.

"Go Elodie," the Darkling orders. Ivan huff and drags me down into ship. I stumble after him, he circles around, taking unneeded turns and staircases. I can tell he's trying to confuse me, but it's hard to trick someone when you pass by the same exact Grisha in a purple  _kefta_  reading a book on parabolas three times.

After twenty minutes of this routine he finally throws me in a cabin. I stumble into the modest room and turn and look at Ivan with pure contempt. He shrugs and slams the door shut. I hear the lock click shut and I run a hand through my fiery hair. I feel the boat shift and I walk over to the port hole.

Despair crashes down on me as I see the dock get smaller and smaller. The window is too small for me to crawl through, but maybe if I find a way to cut away the wood around it. Picking the lock would be good, but I'd have to go through my brother's Grisha. I look down at my bare feet and sigh. Running away the first time was easy. He trusted me, and he wasn't even there. All I did was jump from my window and make my way out of Os Alta. I took all my statues and the necklace he gave me and left a note in my place.

I collapse on the bed and clutch the skirt of my nightgown.

"You still do that I see," I hear my brother say as he opens the door. I release my skirt, it took me years to break that habit. Now I'm doing it again.

"Who's Alina?" I ask, even to my own ears I sound harsh.

"A key to my plans," he vaguely replies while he pours a glass of  _kvas_ from a bottle that was on the dresser.

"Your plans do more harm than good Brother," I groan. His eyes narrow and he swirls his glass.

"Change comes from breaking," he explains and takes a step toward me while downing his drink. I roll my eyes and fall onto my back.

"Why did you drag me here? I was fine where I was," I exasperate. He sighs and sits on the bed next to me.

"It was time for you come home," he elucidates, lying down next to me.

"Give me the whole story," I demand.

"You'll find out the whole story when I can trust you," he icily replies.

"I'm not a child," I hiss, after that we both fall into silence.

"You are a child," he grits out. I prop myself on my elbows and look down at him.

"Really, because I'm nearly as old as you. In fact comparatively we are basically the same age," I argue. He fluidly sits up and his grey eyes glare into me.

"You are already in very deep, I would advise you to watch your step," he hisses, I feel my confidence shrivel up. He raises a brow and I look away.

He stands up and paces the room. The door opens and Ivan walks in, carrying my suitcase.

" _Moi soverenyi,_ I have the case. Also Sturmhond would like to see you, he want to finalize the navigation," Ivan says, bowing low. My brother nods and starts walking to the door, motioning for Ivan to follow.

"Elodie, don't do anything stupid while I'm out," my brother commands as he shuts the door. I hear the lock click and I stand up. I wait a few minutes to make sure that both Ivan and the Darkling can't hear me. I slowly open my case and pull out a knife I kept in the lining.

I put it there years ago, but I had it for much longer. I couldn't legally take a knife on one of my moves, so I just hid it there. I never took it out, and it had been a backup in case I forgot a weapon.

I tap my foot, thinking of where I can possibly hide it. It isn't a small knife, but it isn't huge, and it's sheathed in a leather case, but my hiding places were few. I examine the contents of my case and I nearly jump up and down with joy when I see my black riding boots.

I change into a deep green dress and put on dark black stockings. The latest thing in Crofton were stockings, I personally liked them. They hide scars better, but many other people found them awful. I slip on my boots and stuff the knife inside.

I clutch my stomach, I haven't eaten anything since the cake and before that the last thing I ate was a pastry I bought… three days ago. But I just sit and wait on the bed, tapping my fingers against the duvet and humming a song.

Like the little doll he wants me to be.

* * *

Ivan stops in an hour later and gives me a small meal. He informs me that the Darkling wants me to go to sleep, and under his breath he mutters about he  _always_  has to babysit. I smile sweetly and tell him to tell the Darkling I'm simply not tired. His eyes bulge and he leaves the room.

He comes back a few minutes later with a handkerchief tied around his hand.

"The Darkling says to try," Ivan snarls at me.

"I'll think about," I mutter and shoo him out of the room. Ivan scowls and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him. I sit up against the headboard and study my nails, thinking of another way I can mess with Ivan.

I'm interrupted though by my brother as he throws open the door. He looks irritated but his body is relaxed.

"Elodie, it's time for bed," he says calmly as he closes the door.

"I'm not tired," I mutter, looking at the ceiling, "I slept all day,"

He sighs and plops next to me on the bed. He places a hand on my forehead and I feel his power as it flows into me. I'm a natural amplifier, but I'm not nearly as powerful as my mother and brother.

Suddenly I feel sleepy. I automatically know that it's him doing it, because it has always been his backup plan with me. I give him a dirty look and move my head away. His jaw ticks and he grabs my chin, holding me still as he places his other hand on my forehead. My eyelids droop and I feel the peacefulness of sleep blur my vision.

"Don't think you've won," I yawn as he drags me down into unconsciousness. He lets me go, but I'm already tumbling down into the abyss. I hear him get up and walk out the door. A second later I sit up and start plotting.


	9. Chapter 9

My brother comes in late, well after the witching hour. I don't bother faking sleep, I wouldn't fool him anyway. He kicks the shut behind him and glares at me. I roll my eyes from my perch on the dresser. I don't know why I'm sitting up here, but I feels natural.

"You should be asleep," he states, his features are stern and he looks like he could kill.

"As I said earlier, I slept all day," I crow. He frowns and takes a step toward me.

"It's past three," he continues as he shuffles out of his kefta.

"I know," I drawl. He brow furrows and his jaw ticks.

"Then you understand why I think you should sleep," he returns and grabs the bottle of kvas.

"What about you?" I question. He's already pouring a glass, which means he won't sleep for another hour at least. It's the routine of his that I memorized when I was five.

"You need more sleep," he answers. Suddenly I feel pent up rage flow through me like hot iron, but I choke it down. Never hit first, and never without thinking, his voice whispers in my head from long ago.

"I'm not a child," I hiss because I can't hold it in. He smirks and shakes his head.

"You will always be a too clever and little fox," he chuckles darkly. I shrink back at the low blow.

"I'm not little, and there is no such thing as being too clever," I whisper, gathering up all my courage.

"My dear little fox, who's much too clever, you should know that there isn't always a nightingale," he coos while he runs a hand through my hair. His grey eyes are like a chasm and all my courage and bravery has just fallen into it.

He places a hand on my forehead and I don't fight it, I just fall into that dark abyss.

I'm eight again and I'm running through the garden as vibrant spring flowers bloom around me. I giggle when an orange butterfly lands on my pale finger. My brother watches from a distance as he discusses something with a Heartrender and a Squaller. My green dress is too big, but I'm used to everything being too big. I reach to pick a bright red rose. I carefully avoid the thorns and soon I'm holding it in my tiny hands. I turn to face my brother and wave to him. He smiles and waves back, then turns his attention to the hefty Heartrender that looks at me with suspicion. Suddenly hand grab me from behind and lift me off the ground. I pedal my legs and I feel the cold sharp edge of a knife on my throat. My brother stands up so violently that the chair clatters behind him. Before another word is uttered my attacker's head bounces to ground with a sickening thud. All I can see is red and I scream and untangle myself from the body. I run screaming to my brother's arms. He whispers something to the pretty Squaller girl and she nods and leaves.

Two months later, in the height of summer, I'm out in the garden again. I'm sipping on cold lemonade and I know my brother is watching me from the window of his study. Six Oprichiniki shadow me, just in case someone tries something again. I feel a gloved hand snatch my wrist and I look into one of the guard's eyes. They all have their weapons out and confusion flows through me. Before I can react though one brings down his blade, and I manage to avoid a sword in my heart. But a long red gash runs through my shoulder. I scream in agony and I look up to my brother's window. There's the Heartrender from the last attack. In my head everything click and then I'm ripped away from my assailants My brother holds me tight and glares at the men. All six of them suddenly clutch their chest and I see another Heartrender with ruddy hair clenching his fist. My brother holds me close, and when he accidentally touches my wound I whimper. He calls a Healer and he holds me as she seals the gash.

I wake up in the morning in the bed and my brother is already gone. I jump out of bed and check my boots. I sigh in relief when in feel the blade against my calf. I run a hand through my hair and take a breath. The door opens and in walks Ivan looking as sour as ever.

"He wants you on deck," Ivan grunts.

"Is someone upset that they have to babysit," I mock. He groans and motions for me to follow.  
"Someone's grumpy…"

He leads me to the deck without any weird detours. Sun beats down and I have to squint my eyes. It still smells terrible and I cover my nose with my hand. My brother stands at the prow of the ship looking out to see. Ivan leads me up to him and promptly leaves. I scowl at him as he leaves and turn to face my brother.

"You wanted me up here…" I begin, leaving it open for him to continue.

"I don't want you alone," he simply says. I rock back on my heels and look up at the sky.

"That one is a fish," I observe pointing a at white puffy cloud. My brother looks at me at blinks. We haven't done this since I was ten so I can understand his shock.

"That one is an owl," he states, pointing at another. I smile at him and turn back to the clouds.

"In France they are considered to be the wisest animal," I offer. He looks down at me, or rather grey eyes bore into me and I look away.

"Fascinating," he mutters. I kick the ground and I flick my hair out of my eyes. We sit in silence and look everywhere but each other. The tension is thick as I listen to the sailors work. The Grisha are obvious because I hear them chat about the strangest things and they look like pieces of candy with their richly colored kefta.

"Can I go," I blurt. He looks at me and sighs.

"Don't go below deck," he mutters. I turn on my heel and skip away. I pass Ivan and I give him a saccharine smile and wiggle my fingers at him. He grimaces at me and looks away. I slowly walk up to the ladder that leads up to the crow's nest. I glance around and put my foot on the first rickety rung. When no one stops me I scramble up the rotted ladder as quickly as I can.

I reach the basket and smell the fresh sea air. The only sound up here is the wind and the occasional seagulls, the cries from below are lost. I sit down and lean against the smooth wood. I spied a telescope on the floor and I pick it up and expand it. I peek up over the edge and test it out.

I smile at the quality; I can see everything in clarity. It must have cost a fortune, I study the exterior. It has gold inlaid and it's engraved.

Nikolai Lanstov, I know the last name…I think. I collapse it and put it into my sleeve.

"Elodie! Where are you!" I hear my brother shout.

"Up here!" I call down to him.

"Get down here!" he orders.

"You said I couldn't go below deck! Besides, what could I possibly do up here?" I shout.

When he doesn't reply, I relax against the side.

When the sun begins to set my brother climbs up and tells me I need to go back to the cabin. I give him a look and look back up at the sky. He can't fit up into the small basket with me sitting so he stands on the ladder.

Around me are scattered trays filled with untouched food. Ivan came up periodically and set them down without a word. I simply didn't feel like eating so I set them aside and went back to plotting and cloud watching.

"You haven't eaten," he observes glaring at me.

"Never would have guessed," I drawl. He scowls and grabs my ankle.

"Don't give me lip, go to bed my little fox," he commands. I roll eyes and kick his hand away. He frowns, but then his take a steely glint.

"If you don't come down now then you can't come down," he declares.

"Fine," I mutter. With that he climbs down the fifty foot ladder. When he reaches the bottom I hear him call a sailor over. Suddenly I hear banging and the ladder comes down.

Shocked I lean over the edge in horror and look down at my brother. He just waves and goes to his cabin. An icy wind whooshes past me and I shiver.

He wouldn't seriously do this. He'll just come back in an hour or two and carry me to bed.

Three hours pass before I accept the fact that he isn't coming back. I lean back and stare up at sky. The stars shine like diamonds and I carefully extend the telescope. I aim it at the sky and study the stars and constellations. I sigh and think back to my astronomy lessons. I close my eyes and think of my tutor for that subject. He was an old monk who was bald, but his silvery white beard reached the ground. He wore a fraying brown wool robe and his hand shook when he taught.

I wonder how he left this world, did he die peacefully with his family? Did he even have a family? I realize I can't remember very much from my past. The majority of what I do remember involved my brother, or I was getting attacked because of who I was related to.

The only memory of my mother was when she left, but I do remember my grandmother from my father's side. She came one day, with her French accent and her snow white hair styled up on top of her head. She wore a dress of pink silk roses on the cloth. She yelled at my brother for not teaching me to sew or cook, claiming that I would amount to nothing. My brother responded by having me learn practically everything but sewing and cooking. He had me learn violin and taught me politics just a day after she challenged him.

He is right, I am far too clever sometimes. Because he taught me to be.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello? Is anyone here? Well, if you are here feel free to comment below and give me an honest opinion on this.

Around two in the morning it starts to pour rain. It isn't even the nice summer rain I used to play in, it's an icy winter rain. The tips of my fingers are tinged with blue, and I struggle to keep warm.

I stand up and look over the edge, but the rocking of the ship knock me back down. Some of the swells crash over the boat and a few of those cover the crow's nest. I hold my head in my hands and fight down the urge to puke.

I spend the rest of the night clutching my stomach and shivering. My brother came up at the crack of dawn and carried me down gently. His midnight black  _kefta_ was warm and soft and made me feel a tiny bit better. I rest my head against his shoulder as black rings my vision and let him carry me to the cabin. He sets me on my feet and I wobble but I don't let him catch me. He hands me a white gown and leaves the room. I shakily change, my head hurts and I have to stop more than once so I don't pass out. I can barely think but I hide the knife in covers of the bed.

My brother walks in and without a word he tucks me into bed before I can protest. He gently places a hand on my forehead and clucks his tongue. I look at him curious at why he clucked.

"You have a fever," he informs me as he clutches my cold hand.

"I feel like I'll puke," I state without emotion. "You are hurting my hand."

"Sorry," he murmurs and let's go of my hand. I look out the porthole and sigh. My brother knocks on the wall and a few seconds later Ivan walks in. He scowls at me, but stops when my brother glares at me.

"Ivan, I need hot tea with honey, milk, and sugar. Also blankets and some books," the Darkling commands. Ivan nods and leaves with his head bowed. My brother turns back to me and finger combs my hair. I stare at him listlessly as he adjusts the blankets around me.

Ivan walks in with a tray of tea, after him follows a pretty Tailor with fiery hair carrying a couple of blankets and two story books. They set them on the bed and look up to the Darkling for further orders.

"Thank you Genya and Ivan," he dismisses. They both bow and leave. Genya looks back at me and smiles. I give her a weak one in return as she closes the door softly.

My brother stirs a cup of tea after he adds heaping amounts of honey, milk, and sugar-just the way I like it. He hands me the steaming teacup. I shakily take it into my hands. I take a tentative sip and savor the soothing sensation on my sore throat. He piles blankets on top of me and he rubs warmth into my freezing hands.

"Thank you," I hoarse. He smiles and runs a hand through my hair. I sigh and lean into his touch, and he smiles even wider and continues to pet me.

" _Moi Soverenyi,_ we need you on deck," Ivan says as he walks in with his head.

"Why?" my brother asks with barely concealed anger.

"You said…" Ivan trails off. I look up at my brother but he keeps his eyes on Ivan.

"Fine," he sighs. He looks down at me and runs his hand through again.

"Where are you going?" I ask, but my voice is rough and is barely audible.

"I'm sorry my little fox, but I have to go. I'll be just on deck," he apologizes. I simply nod, because I know from experience that arguing wouldn't change a thing. He kisses my forehead and walks out the door. Ivan follows closely behind and slams the door shut. I hold my head at the sound.

I grab one of the story books and open it. The binding is old leather and I can't read the writing on the spine. I read the title page and I'm surprised to see it's in French. It's an old storybook of French fairytales.

I open carefully open to the first story.

* * *

_Once upon a time…_

_A little girl in a red riding hood was sent to deliver a basket to her grandmother in the woods. Everyone simply called her Little Red Riding Hood because her only defining feature was the article which she wore every day._

_Setting off into the woods to deliver the basket to her grandmother she met a wolf. The wolf wanted to eat her, but he dared not because some woodcutters were working nearby. Instead he asked where she was going all alone._

_"I'm deliver treats to my Grandmother," Little Red Riding Hood proudly answered because she was a foolish little girl who did not know that you should never talk to wolves._

_"Does she live far off?" the wolf asked._

_"Definitely, all the way beyond the mill," she answered._

_"Well," said the wolf, "I think I'll see her to. I'll go this way and you go that way and we'll see who gets there first."_

_The wolf ran fast and took a shortcut, while Little Red Riding Hood took a roundabout away and dwaddled by gathering nuts and picking flowers as she went._

_The wolf arrived first and knocked on the Grandmother's door._

_"Who's there?" called the old woman._

_"It's your granddaughter, Little Red Riding Hood," the wolf answered, imitating Little Red Riding Hood's voice, "my mother sent me to give you some treats."_

_The good grandmother was in bed because she was ill instructed the wolf on how to open the door._

_The wolf opened the door and attacked the old woman and swallowed her down in a moment. He put on the old woman's clothes and laid down on the bed and waited for Little Red Riding Hood._

_Sometime later a knock came at the door._

_"Who's there," called the wolf._

_Little Red Riding Hood was first confused but thought it was an effect of her grandmother's illness_

_"It's your granddaughter, Little Red Riding Hood. my mother sent me to give you some treats."_

_The wolf, softening his voice, repeated the old woman's instructions on opening the door._

_Red Riding Hood followed the instructions and walked into the small cottage._   _The wolf, seeing her come in, said to her, hiding himself under the bedclothes, "Put the treats upon the stool, and come sit on the bed with me."_

_Little Red Riding Hood sat on the bed. She was greatly amazed to see how her grandmother looked in her nightclothes, and said to her, "Grandmother, what big arms you have!"_

_"All the better to hug you with, my dear."_

_"Grandmother, what big legs you have!"_

_"All the better to run with, my child."_

_"Grandmother, what big ears you have!"_

_"All the better to hear with, my child."_

_"Grandmother, what big eyes you have!"_

_"All the better to see with, my child."_

_"Grandmother, what big teeth you have got!"_

_"All the better to eat you up with."_

_And, saying these words, this wicked wolf fell upon Little Red Riding Hood, and ate her all up._

* * *

I slammed the book shut, shocked at the ending. The Witch of Duva terrified me, but the culprit was caught and punished. In this strange tale it implies that the wolf is still out there. I shiver and bravely turn to the next one.


	11. Chapter 11

_I'm walking in the woods and wearing a black riding hood. Sun shines through fiery orange and vibrant yellow leaves and the air smells of roasted pumpkin. I see a cottage with a thatch roof and a thick wooden door. With a smile I skip over and rap on the door._

_"Who's there?" I hear my brother's voice call._

_"It's Elodie," I call back._

_"Come inside," he orders and I obey. Opening the door the cottage turns into a throne room. The door shuts behind me and I stand in the center of a marble floor. My brother resides in an obsidian throne with his legs stretched out in front of him and shadows writhe behind him. I notice my brother is different, but I can't place how._

_"What a large throne you have," I observe meekly._

_"Better for sitting in, my dear little fox," he returns as he stands and walks over to me._

_"What…strange eyes you have."_

_"Better to see you with," he murmurs and he strokes my cheeks._

_"What cold fingers you have," I whisper._

_"Better to touch you with," he replies._

_"What a strange voice you have."_

_"Better to speak with."_

_"What strange and large darkness you have," I gasp horrified when I see a creature move inside it._

_"All the better to trap you in my dear little fox," he whispers ever so softly. Then on cue the darkness whips out and ties around my wrist. I struggle but it starts to drag me in. I scream and thrash as the darkness swallows me whole._

* * *

I wake up screaming. I choke myself off and sit up. I struggle to breathe and I clutch my chest. My chest feels tight and my lungs feel like someone crushed them. The room is too dark. Someone had put a pieces of cloth over the portholes causing the room to be pitch black.

I throw off the blankets and launch myself off the bed. I collapse after a second of standing because it feels like are rifles are firing in my head. My knees wobble as a pull myself up. I stumble out of the cabin and up to the top deck.

I breakdown onto my knees in the sunlight and stare up at the mid-afternoon sky. The salty sea air brushes across my face; luckily my nose is too stuffed to smell the rotten stench that permeates the air here.

Clutching my chest I still struggle to breathe, but air doesn't flow. I cling to my throat as I hear thundering footsteps running toward me. My brother kneels in front of me and holds my face.

"Elodie! What's wrong?" he cries as he probes my eyes for information. I clutch my throat to symbolize that I can't breathe. My brother frowns and rubs my back and telling me to breathe in and out.

I fantically shake my head. He presses an ear to my chest.

"Elodie, you need to breathe," he orders and I only nod. I know this, but yet I can't get air into my lungs because my chest is too tight. His features are panicked but his voice is smooth like chocolate. I know he's trying to stay calm but I can tell he's freaking out because you only can survive so long without air.

"Elodie…please," he whispers. I dumbly nod and open my mouth. No air fills my lungs though, and I start to panic at the reality of the situation.

_Oh Saints, I can't breathe. This is it, oh saints._

"Elodie, look at me and stay calm," he orders. I lock my eyes with his and watch as he slowly breathes in. I try to do the same but nothing happens. He slowly exhales and holds my shoulders. Still no air flows through me.

My brother puts his hand on his heart and I put my hand over his. I feel my frantic heart beat through his hand; it's too fast, too loud.

"Ivan! Do something!" my brother commands with a harsh edge. Ivan runs into my line of sight and a presses an ear to my chest. He scowls and turns to my brother.

"She isn't breathing," he states.

"I know that," the Darkling hisses at him.

"Her lungs are locked, like another Heartrender is crushing them," Ivan explains frantically.

"Fix it," my brother commands in a harsh and rough voice. Ivan swallows and he presses his hands on my collarbone. His brows furrow in concentration. Suddenly I feel air flow through me. I take several gasps and push him away. I pant and continue to clutch my chest. My brother pulls me to him and holds me tight.

I just keep breathing.

_In and Out. Nothing more, nothing less. In and Out._

"Get every Heartrender on deck," my brother orders as he crushes me to his chest. "Genya!"

"Yes  _moi soverenyi,"_  she obediently asks as she hurries over.

"Take her to my cabin and get her some water," he instructs and lets me go. Genya nods and helps me stand up. I let her lead me back into my cabin. She tucks me into bed and calls someone to bring me a cup of water.

I take slow sips and look deeply into her eyes.

"Where did you get that storybook?" I ask while pointing at the book of French fairytales, my voice is hoarse and it hurts to speak. I sit up to get a better view of her.

"My grandmother gave it to me. I can't read it, I didn't mean to give you it," she explains.

"It's in French" I whisper.

"Do you know French?"

"Yes, but the stories in there are scary. The Witch of Duva seems quite pleasant compared to some of them."

"How so?" she asks.

"There are few happy endings. Even in Duva the carpenter was punished. The first one, Little Red Riding Hood, the wolf wins. He faces no retribution and it implies that he's still out there," I offer. Genya nods, her pretty features serious as she runs a hand through her red hair.

Through the ceiling we hear a crash and we both jump. Genya sighs thoughtfully and stands.

"I have to check on something. Do you need anything before I leave?" she says while dusting off her red  _kefta_. I shake my head and look down at my hands as she softly closes the door.

I grab the other book and it's just a Firebird story. I sigh and set it aside. I've read far too many of those. I rest my head against the headboard and close my eyes. Another crash reverberates through the ceiling causing my eyes to fly open. I look up and debate whether not to go up there and see what's happening.

I never get the chance because my brother slams open the door. I turn to face him. His grey eyes are tired and his black hair is in disarray. He's panting slightly and he strides over to me. He sits on the bed with determined slowness.

I reach for him and he clutches my hand.

"I'm sorry it happened again," he whispers. I just nod and he pets my hair.

"What were the crashes about?" I ask him.

"Nothing. What did you do all day?" he brushes aside.

"I read the creepiest thing ever," I state. He raises his eyebrows, and I decide that I really don't want to know.

"Can't be worse than when you locked yourself in your room convinced that a carpenter was going to eat you," he jokes.

"Creepier. In that story the carpenter was killed. The story I read was a fairytale from French. The Wolf didn't die, he just walked away. Poor Little Red Riding Hood and her Grandmother were eaten and the culprit got off scotch free," I rush out.

"How did it go?" he asks.

"A little girl was delivering a basket to her Grandmother and met a crafty wolf along the way. The wolf raced ahead and killed the Grandmother before the little girl got there. Then he pretended to be the old woman and when the little girl walked in she was suspicious and began to question the wolf," I state.

"Then," my brother cajoles.

"'What large teeth you have,' then the wolf replied 'better to eat you with'" I state eerily.

"Then," my brother repeats.

"Then the wolf eats her and it ends," I explain. My brother raises his eyebrows.

"Are you sure?" he asks after a long pause.

"There is no happy ending," I whisper. My brother sighs and pets my hair thoughtfully.

"Maybe the little girl is plotting her revenge," my brother offers.

_Maybe I am too._


	12. Chapter 12

I'm playing on the floor with my white toy rabbit. My ancient mother sits in a chair by the fire and my brother is reading a book. We are sitting in a parlor inside a small townhouse. My brother is renting it until the Little Palace is finished in the spring. Outside the wind howls but the fire keeps me warm.

"I can't believe she'll be three tomorrow," my brother sighs as he closes his book.

"Far too long I say. There is something odd about that girl. She's far to cunning for her age," Mother grunts. Brother shoots her a look and walks over to the door.

"I have business, put her to bed in ten minutes," my brother states as he opens the door. Mother turns to look at me. She claps her hands it darkness swallows the room with a crack.

"No," I mutter in my head and I clap my hands too. Sunlight bursts from my hands and scatters her darkness. Mother's face is slack, her eyes wide at my display.

"How in the…" she muses and walks over to me. I cock my head, curious at my latest discovery, and then I clap my hands again. This time darkness flows out, I giggle and look around. Mother gasps and hurriedly lights the fire again. She gives me a murderous glare.

I scoot back and clutch my bunny closer to me.

"I knew there was something wrong with you. The Saints are punishing me by giving me a witch for a child. I was right to try and kill you before," she hisses and reaches for a fire poker. I scream at the top of my lungs. Mother clutches her ears, dropping her heavy iron weapon. The door slams open, revealing Brother. He scowls at Mother as he strides over to us. With on fluid motion he sweeps me into his arms and clutches me close.

"I can't leave you alone for five minutes," he snarls at Mother.

"She's a witch," Mother retorts. She opens her mouth to continue but Brother cuts her off.

"She's your daughter. Just go back to your room. I'll put her to bed," he commands and waves toward the door. Mother grunts and walks out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Brother carries me upstairs to my room. The walls are a soft pink with white trim. He coos in my ear as he places me in the white crib. I reach up to grab his black hair. He takes my small hands into his and kisses them. I giggle and he smiles down at me. He puts them against my chest and straightens. I frown and stare into his grey eyes.

"Stay," I say aloud. My brother's eyes widen and he blinks.

"Mother! Come in here," Brother calls.

Soon her wrinkled face is staring down at me.

"She said her first word," Brother informs smiling. Mother scowls and looks at him.

"You called me here in the middle of the night for that," she grunts.

"It was 'stay'. Did we ever say that to her?" Brother continues.

"You're the one with the perfect memory," Mother shrugs. Her grey eyes blaze into me and I think she's trying to kill me.

"No," Brother whispers staring deep into my eyes.

Mother grunts and leaves after a long pause, Brother looks bemused and he kisses my forehead and blows out the candle. He whispers goodnight and softly closes the door.

* * *

Brother pours tea into the china tea cup. I watch his fingers as they drum on the table while he listens to a Tidemaker give a report. The man is sweating nervously and wrings his thick hands while he glances around.

"Enough," Brother cuts him off and waves him away. By this point I'm staring up into space.

"In lessons I learned Grisha can't have more than two powers," I blurt. My tutor had gone over the topic in class. I nearly died when he said that it was a crime of nature.

"Yes, that's true," Brother says giving me a peculiar look.

"Why not? Surely if two Grisha with different powers had a child the child would have two powers," I ask.

"You are only eight, I don't know if you'll understand the exact science. If a Healer and an Inferni had a child the Healer's power would dominate the Inferni's, canceling it out. Some powers are more powerful than others," he explains as if there is no other explanation.

"What if both powers are equal in strength?" I question, hiding my desperation.

"It's never been seen," my brother replies as he adds sugar to his tea, his silver spoon clinking as he stirs it round and round.

"What would happen if it did happen?" I muse. He stops stirring his tea suddenly, and stares off into space. 

"That would be a powerful Grisha," he whispers, lost in thought. He sits still for a good minute, then goes back to stirring.

"Pass me the honey," I murmur after a long silence.

* * *

That night I stare out my window to my mother's cottage. Grisha theory books are hidden under my bed and I'm running my hand through my fiery hair.

_Would she know? Was she right all those years ago?_

I take a breath and light blooms in my right hand. After a moment I let darkness pool in my left. I frown and let both of them go. It's a crime of nature, and I don't want to face the consequences.

I feel something stir inside of me, two things. I can only let one out into the open. In my head I see my brother and my mother. Both of them are Darklings.

I squeeze my eyes shut and pull one out and push the other deep down. Into the place I don't dare think about. Darkness fills the room with a crack and I still feel the other stirring.

_No, you are not what I want!_  I scream in my head. The stirring stops. I stumble around the room, but I don't light a candle I just make my way to my bed and I curl up in the comforting darkness.

_Only darkness. Nothing more, nothing less._


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one is in 3rd person, because I can't write as the darkling and Elodie is two months, so you can't really narrate that. Anyway, you should comment and leave kudos, because that's what the cool kids are doing.

An infant’s scream pierces the calm of sleep at around two in the morning. The Darkling slowly opens his eyes and waits a minute, debating whether or not get up check on his baby sister. When the screams continue he groans and rolls off the bed. He swiftly lights a candle and walks out of his bedchamber.

The suite in the Grand Palace had only six rooms. Two bedchambers, with a bathing room attached to each, along with a private dining room and small parlor. All were very opulent, but the Darkling had removed anything he found too tawdry, leaving the walls blank except for a map of Ravka.

The Darkling navigates to his mother's bedchamber. Throwing open the door he skillfully walks over to the bassinet in the corner. Inside two month old Elodie is screaming at the top her lungs, her tiny face turning ruby red. The Darkling carefully sets the candle aside and gently picks up his the tiny infant.

As he bounces her up and down he glances at the abandoned bed. Elodie keeps screaming and he begins to pace back and forth. He checks if she soiled herself, when that isn’t the case he pats her back.

But all she does is scream and cry.

Someone raps on the main door, causing Elodie to scream more. The Darkling rolls his eyes and stomps over to the door. He opens it to reveal a young maid clothed in cream. Her mousy brown hair is loose and disheveled, but her eyes are bright and clear.

“There have been complaints about the noise,” she informs, her voice is reedy and the Darkling frowns.

“I’m trying everything,” the Darkling exasperates over the infants cries. He shifts over to her right arm and tries rocking her again.

“Where’s her mother?” the maid questions.

“I don’t know, she isn’t here though,” the Darkling groans.

“What mother leaves her child alone at night,” the maid sneers, her tanned nose scrunching in distaste.

“This one, now if you aren’t going to help go back to your miserable bedmate,” the Darkling hisses and begins to slam the door.

“Wait, give her here,” the maid sighs, putting her foot in the door. The maid grabs the infant from the Darkling. She bounces the screaming infant on her hip as she walks into the suite. After a few minutes the maid sighs and looks at the Darkling.

“She’s hungry,” the maid announces, handing Elodie back to him. “Since the mother is missing I assume you have milk stored.”

“Stored?” the Darkling gapes.

“I guess that’s no,” the maid groans.

“Where’s a wet nurse?” the Darkling pleads.

“The only one is taking care of a Lord’s newborn son.”

The Darkling scowls and strides out of the suite, not bothering to close the door behind him. He walks down the hall, stopping every once in a while to ask someone if they had any milk he could give the still screaming infant. His annoyance grew into rage as everyone said they wouldn’t or couldn’t help him. Eventually he ended up in a young Alkemi’s lab.

The said Alkemi had one Grisha child, who was asleep in the corner, and was mixing a purple dye that would work in hair. The sudden banging on her door causes her to drop the vials of blue and red powder on the table. She curses as she throws open the door. She stops when she sees an extremely stressed Darkling at her door carrying a screaming infant in his arms.

“Do you have any milk I can give her?” The Darkling demands without pause. The Alkemi smiles and motions for him to come in with a wave of her hand, she snatches something from the table and sticks into Elodie’s mouth. Elodie begins to suck on it stopping her cries.

“I stopped giving milk early _moi soverenyi,_ but I made a substitute so I didn’t have to hire a wet nurse,” the Alkemi explains without skipping a beat.

“Thank you,” the Darkling replies, not asking for the substitute. The Alkemi smiles and walks over to her cabinets and pulls out a jar of white powder.

“You simply mix this in to hot water then pour it one of these,” she explains as she sets the jar on the table and grabs a bottle with a strange rubber spout on it. “Then you just put this spout, which acts like the original, ahem, source, into her mouth then wait until she thinks she’s done.”

The Darkling nods and tries to grab the items without setting Elodie down.

“ _Moi soverenyi,_ let me make you one bottle and show you how to feed her,” the Alkemi offers with a weak smile. The Darkling nods again and sits down in an old wooden chair. The Alkemi smiles and fills a kettle with water and sets it on the stove.

“What’s your name?” the Darkling inquires after a long awkward pause.

“Ann, _moi soverenyi,”_ she simply states as she removes the kettle and opens the lid, releasing steam into the air. She deftly removes the rubber spout and pours the scalding water into the glass. She grabs a spoon and adds two scoops of powder into the bottle. Then she puts the spout back on and shakes the bottle vigorously, turning the water into a creamy white.

“Where’s your husband?” The Darkling asks as Ann squirts a drop of the white liquid on her arm and smiles.

“Working on something for the King. He’s a Durast, a very fine one at that, _moi soverenyi,”_ Ann beams as she hands him the bottle.

The Darkling nods and accepts the bottle and cautiously removes the object from Elodie’s mouth and slips the spout of the bottle in.

Elodie immediately starts sucking and the white substance flows into her mouth.  The Darkling lets out a relieved sigh and slumps back into chair, cradling Elodie in his arms. Ann puts the jar of powder into a bag and hands it to the Darkling.

“Thank you, my mother disappeared,” the Darkling says as he stands up.

“Your mother? You mean she’s your sister?” Ann gapes.

“Yes,” he briskly replies as he walks out the door with the bag, bottle, and Elodie.

Back at the suite he collapses into a chair in the parlor. He patiently waits for his baby sister to finish the bottle, watching the door as he does so. The clock strikes three and he looks down at Elodie. Her bright blue eyes stare at him as he sets the bottle aside.

“What am I going to do with you?” the Darkling wonders out loud. The little girl smiles and reaches up her hands to touch the family emblem on his collar. He sighs and removes her tiny hands. Her smile slips and she clutches his finger.

He stands up with a groan, not breaking the infant’s gaze, and walks over to the bassinet. He gently lays her down and throws a glance at the empty bed. While humming a lullaby he walks over to his mother’s desk. He sifts through papers and notes, storing any information he found interesting.

The door slams open with a loud bang. The Darkling turns and faces his mother, and Elodie starts crying because of the noise. The Darkling doesn’t even flinch, he just glares at Baghra. Baghra scowls and walks over to her armoire and pulls out a bottle of _kvas_.

“Where have you been?” the Darkling hisses over the screaming child.

“Out,” she grunts as she pulls her raven hair out of her elaborate bun.

“You just went ‘out’ when your own child of _two months_ was sleeping without telling anyone! Did you even feed her before you left?” he bellows, his voice is filled with venom and his eyes burn with rage. When his mother stays silent the Darkling scowls and drops his voice. “When did you feed her last?”

“About two days ago,” she whispers, but not with guilt or remorse. The only thing in her voice is fear.

“Why haven’t you fed her?” the Darkling asks his voice deceptively calm and quiet as he points to screaming Elodie. Baghra narrows her eyes and straightens her back and looks him in the eye.  

“Because she will do nothing but bring grief to us,” she hisses, her pride tingling her manicured fingers.

“You have given me grief tonight. I had something important tomorrow but I had to run around with a screaming child. All because you neglected your own daughter, now I am afraid there is debt to be paid,” the Darkling declares as he rubs his temple.

“What do you mean a Debt? I am your mother,” she begins wrinkling her flawless nose.

The Darkling gazes at his mother, a woman with raven hair and smooth flawless skin. She stopped aging later than he had, around thirty or so, approximately seven years after his birth. She had married his father, but when the Darkling was seven his father passed on. Since then he had watched his mother sleep with numerous men, but she never once carried child.

Until Elodie’s father came around.

He was a noble from French, around thirty-five. When he found out that Baghra was carrying child he offered everything to them. Marriage, a home, money, his name, anything- as long as he got the child, but Baghra said no to everything. She said that she would not carry the child to term.

Then everything was offered to keep the child alive. When Baghra denied all of it the Darkling stepped forward. Elodie did come to term, but now this was getting out of hand.

“You can’t claim to be mother when you neglect your child,” the Darkling snaps, his calm façade breaking. He raises his hand but stops, takes a deep breath and lowers his hand. “You need to learn that this behavior is unacceptable.”

“I’m not a child!” Baghra screeches, making Elodie scream louder.

The Darkling simply snatches Baghra’s wrist as quick as lightning. He watches with satisfaction as his mother ages rapidly.

Her thick raven hair turning limp and heather gray, smooth pale skin turning withered and wrinkled, and he feels all the pent up energy flow into him. Baghra struggles but she sags as her bones become brittle.

He rips his hand away and glares as his mother collapses. He sighs and steps over her shriveled body and over to the cradle. He coos softly as he picks up the little girl and cradles her against his chest.

“What did you do to me!” an old raspy voice screeches at him. He rolls his grey eyes and glares at the heap on the floor.

“What should have been done sooner,” he states as he strides out of the room. In his room hums a quiet lullaby until the little bundle quiets down and falls asleep. He pulls on the rope in the corner. After a few minutes a servant bustles into the room.

“There is a bassinet in the other bedchamber; I need you to move it into here. Also clean out the wardrobe in there and clean out all of the clothes, the occupant won’t be requiring them anymore,” he orders and reclines in the chair. The maid nods and smooths her cream gown and waits for further direction.

“One other thing, give the clothes to the Grisha named Ann. Her husband is a Durast and she helped greatly tonight,” he adds after a moment. The girl nods and goes to perform the task. He hears wailing and a crash after a few moments.

The maid runs back into the room, with a large red gash on her face.

“Sir, some hag is in there and she won’t let me in,” the maid informs, her voice slightly hitched. She rests a hand on her cheek. Her eyes widen then she pulls her hand back and shrieks when she sees the sticky crimson blood.

The Darkling closes his eyes as the girl screams and runs out of the room. He pulls the rope again and this time a male servant appears.

He repeats his pervious order, adding a warning. The man nods, his blonde hair flopping into his eyes, and he calmly struts into his mother’s room. He listens as he hears several crashes, screeches, thumps, screams, and wails float through the wall. The servant drags the heavy wooden cradle into the room. The Darkling grimaces when he sees the claw marks on the servant’s face. After depositing the cradle to the foot of the bed, the servant goes back to the other room and continues the job.

The Darkling gently lays the sleeping infant into the cradle. He looks out the window and stares at the whirling snow for a couple seconds. He snatches a small blanket and carefully wraps it around the tiny girl. Satisfied he lays her back down while listening to the violent sounds in the other room.

After about an hour the servant comes back and reports that the job is finished, saying that Ann was very excited and would be sending cookies tomorrow. The Darkling smiles and dismisses the man. When he hears the door leading into the hall close he walks into his mother’s room. Baghra lies in a crumpled pile on the floor, her weathered face contorted with rage.

“You little brat, you ungrateful little bastard!” the old woman screams at him. He raises his brows and sits down in the chair that was shoved over to the window.

“Little? Those are strong words for the woman lying on the floor,” the Darkling replies with an easy smile.

“You monster! Hurting your _mother_ over a wretched bastard! I thought I raised you better than this!” she shrieks.

“I could get rid of you, but did you always say to me. ‘Everyone deserves a second chance,’ I think it was. So let this be yours. But the next you mess up I will not show mercy, I will throw you out so fast that you won’t be able to blink,” he threatens, the ice lowering the temperature of the entire suite.

Without stopping to hear her protests he walks out of the room, slamming the door behind him.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I actually got kudos on this! Thank you random guest! If a magical ring appears on your doorstep, that was totally me. If none shows up, then I messed up that magic spell....or Elodie was lying to me.

_I’m sitting on a cold marble floor as couples in red, blue, and purple swirl around me. All of them wear masks and no one is without a partner. I look down at the silken folds of my grey ball gown. I don’t wear a mask, and I suddenly feel bare. I’m not even wearing shoes._

_“Elodie,” I hear a voice ask above me. I look up to see a somber Anthony holding his hand out. I tenderly place my hand in his. He pulls me up and without hesitation begins to dance in sync with the other couples. He wears simple black pants and a white shirt with an emerald green vest._

_“Listen, I don’t have long here,” he says in a low quiet voice._

_“What do you mean?” I ask confused._

_“If your brother finds me here we will both be in trouble,” he vaguely states._

_“What do you mean?” I repeat. Suddenly my head feels like someone is driving a nail into it.  I shake my head and focus on the music. It’s a haunting tune that is unfamiliar to me, so is this dance but Anthony leads me flawlessly so I don’t notice._

_“Listen, I need you to tell me everything about your brother,” he demands irritably._

_“Why should I,” I mumble. My head hurts even worse and I stumble slightly._

_“I would rather just find out for myself but that would create too much evidence,” he mutters. I feel the room shift under my feet. The world shakes and I wrench myself away from him and clutch my pounding head. The music escalates rapidly and the dancers speed up, oblivious to the shaking._

_“Elodie! I can only keep the barrier for so long! Just tell me what I need to know!” Anthony shouts. I fall to my knee as the pain grows._

_Suddenly the world pops. In a split second everything stills. The pain melts away and I remove my hands from my head. Anthony looks up and scowls._

_“Too late,” he hisses and with a poof he disappears. I shakily stand as the music starts up again, soft and quiet. I look around disoriented._

_“Elodie,” a cool voice calls. I turn to face my brother, looking impeccable as ever in his black_ kefta _. He wordlessly pulls me into the dance as soon as my eyes lock into his grey ones. Everything feels foggy and off._

_I feel another headache coming but I ignore it as my brother spins me out._

_“Something isn’t right,” I whisper after a moment._

_“Everything is right. You are right where you are supposed to be,” my brother hypnotically says with a serene smile on his face._

_I nod even though that little voice is screaming at me not to trust him._

_That’s he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing._

_But I push it down, deep down into the abyss._

_It’s the wrong move though. A black chasm opens beneath me and cold hands drag me down. I scream and thrash, calling to my brother. Screaming at him to help me, to save me. But he just stands there and watches with a face of stone._

My eyes fly open and I stare at the wooden ceiling for a long moment. I slowly bring my skeletal hand over my eyes. Unsurprisingly its ice cold, but I don’t mind. My head aches but my throat feels a little better. My forehead feels a tad warm though.  Distantly I hear the door open and the sound of approaching footsteps, but I don’t remove my hand.

“Elodie,” my brother softly calls. I don’t move a muscle.

“Elodie, look at me,” he sings, I peek at him with one eye.

“Yes…” I drone, giving a cool glare.

“Your breakfast is here,” he informs.

“Fascinating,” I drawl, exaggerating the syllables.

“It is. Now get up, I need to check your fever and you need to eat,” he orders. I close my eyes for a moment, but I sit up even though my muscles protest. My brother sets down a tray that is filled with all my favorite breakfast foods.

                Golden pancakes, sticky syrup, sliced fruit, steaming hot chocolate (because I hate coffee), fluffy whipped cream, powdery sugar, and pale yellow pats of butter. Everything is on simple white plates and the shiny silverware is neatly arranged. I can’t help the smile that splits my face in two. I push my ginger hair back so that I won’t get it in any of the food in front of me. I delicately pick up a burnished fork and stab a luscious strawberry. With flourish I pop it in my mouth and softly chew it, savoring the flavor.

My brother chuckles at my expression and places a hand on my forehead. His mirth dies and he frowns and removes his hand. I stop smiling and simply gaze at him.

_Why did you stop smiling?_

“You still have a fever,” he says in explanation to my unspoken question. I set down my fork and I fold my hands in my lap. “Keep eating.”

“Lost my appetite,” I whisper after a pause. He strums his fingers on the light wood tray and his grey eyes bore into me. I swallow and look down at my knotted fingers. “I don’t want to eat anymore.”

“You only ate a strawberry,” he points out. I shrug and we sit in a heavy silence. Unspoken words spanning between, creating an impossible chasm that I want to cross, but I don’t dare get near the edge.

“It was a delicious strawberry,” I offer.

“The rest is delicious too. At least finish one pancake,” he counters. I peek up at his grey eyes, but before I can look back down he grabs my chin and forces me to look him dead in the eye. “Eat my dear little fox.” He orders as he releases my chin. I nod and pick up

I shakily take sip of hot chocolate and let the hot liquid sit in my mouth for a couple seconds. I swallow and relish the warmth that flows all the way to my stomach. I set the white mug down and grab the pitcher of syrup. Heated up with melted butter inside, just how I would ask for it every morning back at the Little Palace. I drown the pancakes in it, careful not to get it on my fingers.

I grab a fork and cut off a chunk and pop it into my mouth. I enjoy its sweet sticky taste, so I take another bite. Soon the entire pancake is gone and I’m staring at the leftover syrup which coagulates on the edges.

When I was little I would run finger through the pools and then lick it clean. My brother countered with taking syrup away until I could ‘handle’ it. This took longer than he thought, partially because it’s really easy to sneak past the cooks and to steal some and then eat it in a closet.

                I dip my finger into the pool and when he isn’t watching too closely I lick off the sugary glue. He doesn’t say anything, but I can tell he wants to take the syrup away from me. I spoon the fluffy whipped cream into the hot chocolate before I take a long sip.

“What do we do now?” I ask.

“We carry on,” he answers smoothly. I remember him saying that all the time when I was young. It was his way of telling me everything will be okay. I always believed him

Now it’s different, now I want proof that everything will be okay.

“I want to go back,” I whisper to the steaming mug. He walks over and sits on the bed next to me.

“Why?” he asks. I peek up at him, meeting his glare. A simple question, with millions of answers.

There are even multiple truths.

_I want to live in that country._

_I want to make it on my own._

_I want to disappear._

_I want to not be your doll._

_I want to be treated like an adult._

_I want to control my life._

As I list these answers all I hear is: _I want, want, want…_

But there is a tiny little truth that’s the reason.

_I’m scared you’ll do something terrible and unforgivable, and you can’t protect me from the backlash._

Even though all these truths bubble in my mouth, I just shrug and look back down at my drink.

“I want you to leave me alone,” I murmur and set the mug down.  He pets my hair and guides my chin up to look him in the eye.

“I think you don’t know what you want my dear little fox.”


End file.
